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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27343927">Totally Legitimate Research</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvidReader3019/pseuds/AvidReader3019'>AvidReader3019</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Nec-romanc-y [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon &amp; Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Dipper Pines Being An Idiot, Fluff, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Necromancy, Research, Tentacles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:21:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27343927</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvidReader3019/pseuds/AvidReader3019</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper is a researcher and what better subject than his boyfriend, wait Wirt where are you going? NO WAIT- WIRT COME BACK.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dipper Pines/Wirt (Over the Garden Wall)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Nec-romanc-y [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979681</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Over the Gravity Falls (After Dark)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Totally Legitimate Research</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There is so so much I wanna say, but uh I'm giving a huge massive virtual hug and bucket of love to be dumped right onto the OTGF discord like, guys, none of this would exist without the constant encouragement and positivity. I've never written this much in my life it's insane. I went and got all passionate about this dumb AU accidentally and I blame your enabling! So here's this, another entry in a universe I honestly started as a joke.</p><p>Also! Very Important: Thanks so so so so much to Colorfullyminded for beta-ing this!!! (The only reason this sucker isn't a trainwreck of errors I swear.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>           As soon as he asks, Wirt chokes on his tea; funny since he doesn’t really have an esophagus. They had been sitting in their usual spot on a couch in front of a roaring fireplace. Wirt bundled up with a novel and some tea, while Dipper had just joined him only a few minutes earlier, commenting “you look like death warmed up” before laughing hysterically and joining him under the blankets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          This time is even better than usual because it was planned, thank the gods. No crisis this time, just a good old-fashioned poltergeist message. It isn’t exactly two-way communication, but at least Wirt can say “Hey Dip see you Friday” instead of dealing with imbalances in the natural order. Of course, Dipper is still Dipper, so there’s still the occasional zombie uprising, but not as often. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Although... Dipper has recently started complaining about waking up to blood messages dripping down his walls. They only say things like “C ya @ 8” or “Can’t wait ‘till 2-nite!” (The newly deceased are easier to rope into favors, but unfortunately, most of them prefer writing shorthand.) The issue is that apparently, getting blood off of light-colored walls is a bit of a chore. Wirt then suggested asking the spirits to write things in the lab on the stone walls from now on and Dipper just left muttering under his breath. It’s a bit unconventional, sure, but it’s much better than the hundreds of lawsuits. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wow, people felt the need to complain and sue over their corpses being reanimated without permission, who would’ve thought? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>          Wirt shudders at the idea of dealing with that mess again, but it’s still nothing compared to the situation he is about to get in without careful subterfuge. He barely manages not to drop his cup after the coughing fit, and looks up at his boyfriend in surprise.  “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Dipper pauses the circles he started rubbing into Wirt’s back after the choking started, and leans back. “I asked about your shadow tendril thingies. I haven’t seen them much in a while and I’m just curious is all. We’ve talked about the ins and outs of everything about your corporeality and forms and the otherworld, but never those.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Wirt sets his mug down as gently and slowly as he can to buy a second of time to come up with a suitably nonchalant answer, hoping Dipper might just drop it if it doesn't seem interesting enough. “Well, yeah they’re just sorta there I guess... not a big deal, really, so I never brought it up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “They may not be a big deal to someone who has lived with them for centuries but for me who has no experience with them, they seem interesting.” He pauses to take a sip of his cocoa. “Soooo, could you tell me about ‘em?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Wirt goes to calmly turn him down, but Dipper already has a notebook out, one of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>many </span>
  </em>
  <span>shoved between the cushions, and a pen that Wirt hopes came from somewhere more sanitary considering it’s already in his mouth. He’s not going to accept being turned down without asking even </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>questions, and Wirt has never dodged any of his borderline interrogations before, always eager to see that light of discovery enter his boyfriend’s eyes. Point being, Dipper will immediately know something is up and be beyond suspicious if he tries to change the subject. Plus, a few questions can’t hurt? Right? Probably? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Oh, who is he kidding? Dipper is </span>
  <em>
    <span>insatiable </span>
  </em>
  <span>when it comes to research. He touches everything, askes every question, casts every spell, finds out everything that can be found out, the very definition of thorough... Wirt tenses and tries as much as he can to pull on a neutral expression and fortify himself. He can give clinical answers and not go into detail and pretend it’s not a big deal and it’ll be fine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’ll be fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Dipper leans back, laying his legs across Wirt’s lap and looks him over closely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          He’s doomed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          See, Wirt acknowledges that their relationship is a balance carefully maintained by him always seeming as human as he can. They treat his job like well, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>job</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but a normal one rather than the terrifying charge it actually is. They dance around the subject of his immortality and never </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>discuss any of the more inhuman features he has. Not the eyes, not the shadows, none of it. He can hide them well, and has since the beginning, so with this line of questioning Wirt wants to just bolt out the door or crawl into a hole somewhere rather than scare Dipper off with anything odd. Well, he wouldn’t at first; Dipper loves odd things, he lives for them, but dating one of those things is far different from enthusiastic study, and Wirt can’t bear the thought of watching him cringe away in disgust at anything. He knows he should and </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but they’ve done so well avoiding it and it’s not healthy, he knows it’s not, </span>
  <em>
    <span>but hasn’t he earned something nice for once?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thinks of the souls he’d had to ferry just that morning and how they begged him to let them stay and </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah, no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he supposes he hasn’t earned much of anything good.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Even this had to end sometime, and why not now?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>          He isn’t able to keep the fear and apprehension and clear discomfort out of his voice; honestly, he doesn’t even try to. “W-What do you want to know, exactly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “Well, I wanted to just ask about them, look at them a little closer, touch them maybe, just to see if I can get a read on their composition, if that’s okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “S-sure” His voice cracks even as he tries to force it down. He’s been damned and ferrying souls to the otherworld for centuries, but one question from his adorably ignorant boyfriend and he’s broken. This could be it. This could be the final straw that drives him away. It couldn’t be the killing people for a living or the years worth of darkness or the lack of vacation days and freetime for dates. No, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>have to be something as stupid as this. It’s only fitting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head is spinning with worry, but maybe he’ll have to leave before they get very far in questioning? If he can get Dipper talking long enough, which shouldn't be hard if he actually has some questions in mind, he can just leave and keep everything intact. After all, Wirt only has a few hours before someone starts getting suspicious. Thankfully for him, resistant souls are common enough he can often use the excuse of someone not taking things well and calming them down as a reason for his extended hours on Earth. Which he does fairly often, but nowadays he may comfort a soul for an hour or so then spend a couple with Dipper. Still, some had started noticing the uptake in “resistants” lately, and tried to help him out, suggesting more aggressive technique, so he’s going to need a better excuse soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “Are they always there, hidden with an illusion of some kind, or do they go somewhere else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Thank goodness. An easy non-creepy question to start. “Uh, no. Well, both, maybe? I can make them go away, but they merge into my form, so I look more human.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Dipper jots that down. “Can you feel with them like extra limbs? Or are they more like hair where you can’t feel anything through them?” He clicks the pen a few times before popping it back into his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Wirt tenses. An over-tuned guitar can’t compare to the tightness inside one of his pinky fingers, let alone his whole being. The truth is </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly </span>
  </em>
  <span>not an option, not with Dipper of all people, but he's a terrible liar. He’s never had to be any good at it until he’d met the necromancer, and lying to self centered entities that don’t care about you is </span>
  <em>
    <span>far </span>
  </em>
  <span>easier than lying to someone who knows you better than anyone else. On top of that, Dipper likes poker, and convincing him to play a few rounds means Dipper knows all his tells, and he's looking right into his eyes and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, no. Why did I decide to sit so close?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Wirt swallows and can’t help the slight nervous laugh. “No. Of course I can’t feel anything with them. That would be insane! Feeling things with shadows, can you imagine? How weird is that? They aren’t made of any substance, you know? They aren’t even part of me! Well, no, they're part of me, but not like limbs or anything. I don't feel or control them, or whatever that would be crazy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Dipper’s voice is muffled by the pen still in his mouth and he somehow manages a frown. “It doesn’t seem </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> crazy. We mess with all kinds of “crazy” stuff.” He writes a few more things, shaking his head. “Hell, Wirt you’re basically the fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>grim reaper</span>
  </em>
  <span> and you’re sitting on my couch drinking tea. With vanilla in it because you think it smells nice and can’t get it most of the time, so I don’t think I can really judge anything as crazy anymore” He rolls his eyes. “But anyways, alright, noted. It’s more like an aura, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Wirt nearly collapses in relief at the familiar annoyance. He can’t feel too bad about it when the alternative is- Dipper will get over it, and he even mentioned the weirdness of everything. Is it possible he doesn’t mind… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. Of course he minds, he just- They cover it up and they don’t talk about it, and yeah. Vanilla is one thing, limbs and senses that humans don’t even have is another. “Yes. Exactly like that, definitely that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Dipper pulls the pen out, slides it into place on the papers, and gestures to Wirt skeptically with his mug. “So if I were to pour this scalding hot cocoa on them, you wouldn’t feel a thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “Nope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>         “Have you ever tried? I doubt you’ve been attacked, and even if you had, most wouldn’t go for the weird shadows, right? Maybe they’re just less sensitive, and you have to apply more pressure to get some kind of stimulation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Wirt has to fake another coughing fit to stifle his reaction. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If only he knew.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “No. I uh, I’m pretty certain. Come on, Dipper, I think I know my own magic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Dipper’s eyes narrow dangerously at his words. He’d never been this dismissive of his theories before, always willing to indulge even the weirdest of ideas. “You wouldn’t mind if I tested my theory, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          He sits up a bit straighter without meaning to, daring Dipper to call his bluff. “Go right ahead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Dipper waits for a moment, eyebrow raised, before clearing his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Wirt shoots him a confused look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>         “The shadows, Wirt? They have to be present and all for me to be able to test them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “Oh, right. Sorry.” </span>
</p><p>He, with no small amount of apprehension and anxiety, calls the shadows into existence. It’s sort of like shrugging off a coat in that he can feel a creeping cold brush across his skin, only instead of coming from an exposure to the air, it comes from being that much closer to his “true” form. A Form he doesn't like Dipper seeing; a form that reminds him what he is, and how different and, potentially unsuitable, the two of them really are. It’s one that seems much more fitting of someone with his position than the sweater-clad, humanoid figure he prefers. </p><p>
  <span>          Along with that, a whole other set of senses has opened up to him. He doesn’t often need them since he can pretty well observe the environment with human limitations, plus the intrinsic “vitality” sense (as Dipper calls it) that he can’t seem to turn off, so he doesn’t tend to let them loose unless he’s completely alone, and even then, he’d prefer to keep them hidden. The only drawback being that it takes a measure of effort he’d rather not expend when there’s no real reason to, other than his own distaste. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          It’s not that the senses are unpleasant, exactly, more that they have a mind of their own. They're directly linked to his emotions and instinct, so what he said about not being able to control them is true in a way, for the most part, but he can use them. The most common example being that if he gets worked up they’ll reflect that, so more often than not they make him look stupid and knock things down when he's uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          It’s like having weird reflexes, so if he were to ever get in a fight they would be invaluable, but when he's just in a situation that feels awkward they're a pain. After the first time they’d met, Wirt, now having the goal of impressing Dipper even before realizing it, had kept them carefully under wraps for fear of looking completely ridiculous. He has no such luxury now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          The other, more pressing issue, especially concerning Dipper’s ever curious, eager attitude when it comes to his research is that they're- Well, so- They’re um </span>
  <em>
    <span>sensitive </span>
  </em>
  <span>for lack of a better term. They’re hyperaware for reasons Wirt can only guess are to make his life more difficult than it already is. Someone at the inception of the universe had it out for him specifically and he still hasn’t figured out why. It means he can’t use the things for anything useful, like to grab faraway things, because feeling a book on </span>
  <em>
    <span>that level</span>
  </em>
  <span> isn’t pleasant. Feeling </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>on that level isn’t pleasant. He doesn't care if the thing in question is the softest blanket ever made, it's still an absolute nightmare to come into contact with every fiber and be able to count the stitches with that upsetting level of accuracy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          He’s been zoned out for so long that Dipper took it upon himself to start investigating on his own. He is currently pacing behind Wirt, bent over, staring at these things intently, close as he can without grabbing them. He considers running to grab a flashlight because of how dark they are, but if the amount of firelight isn’t enough to illuminate them from a foot or two away he doubts the flashlight will fare any better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          They’re just like they had been when they met, sucking the light out of everything including the colors immediately next to them causing them to go from vibrant shades to a pastel. Dipper starts muttering under his breath, writing down his observations while very clearly trying to refrain from just grabbing one since hey, he’s curious, but he’s not an asshole. That’s a part of Wirt, one he seemed extremely hesitant to share, so he should definitely ask before just going for it. Plus, Wirt had been doing a stunning imitation of a deer-in-headlights since revealing them and Dipper wants to make sure he feels comfortable. The only thing he can think that would cause such a reaction would be that maybe it’s the fact that they’re so far from human? He knows Wirt has a few concerns about his more inhuman traits. He’s kept not only these, but his eyes hidden as well, keeping them a very human shade rather than the natural swirling vortex of color Dipper just wishes he felt comfortable enough to not hide. Especially since he finds them attractive as hell. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Weird?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Probably. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Concerning implications for his psyche? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Absolutely, but he can justify it by saying hey he thinks everything about Wirt is attractive, it definitely has nothing to do with the features themselves exciting him in a way Wirt can never find out about. Wirt obviously hates his less human features, and Dipper usually doesn't want to bring anything up for fear of making him uncomfortable, but at some point he’s gotta prove that he doesn’t mind them. He loves them actually! They’re so neat and interesting and part of what makes Wirt, Wirt. He’ll never forget how adorable he looked all lost that first time they met. With him knocking everything off his tables; Dipper was enamored in moments, but he hasn’t been allowed to see them since. He just wants Wirt to know he can be himself: unhidden, unhindered, around him, but the way of making that known is nothing short of awkward, and he’d defaulted to a ruse of research to make it feel more normal and comfortable for the both of them, but it still seems to have backfired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Wirt still hasn’t moved since he’d started looking, but he seemed more or less comfortable with the questioning? He had been talking, at least, and Dipper still </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wants to touch them. Just for the novelty of it. What would shadow </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> like? He’d gotten a small knowledge when grabbing Wirt the first time and he remembers the </span>
  <em>
    <span>cold</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but that had been Wirt while he was closed off and trying to seem intimidating on purpose, like he’s supposed to, so it could have just been a defense mechanism to being grabbed by a stranger who’d called him into an uncomfortable situation. Not the most romantic first meeting now that he thinks about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “So uh is it alright if I maybe just touched one?” Dipper clears his throat and tries not to seem like a complete weirdo, but there isn’t a very good way to ask something like that </span>
  <em>
    <span>without</span>
  </em>
  <span> seeming weird-- he at least tries to not seem eager.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Wirt is startled out of his spiraling thoughts by Dipper’s words. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Can he touch one?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Wirt could always say no, there isn’t any kind of insistence in the inquiry and he knows Dipper would drop it if he asked, but he’s struck by an interesting argument presented by some small voice in the back of his mind that he can’t exactly ignore, startling though it is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          He kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> him to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Not as in he particularly wants Dipper to, you know, but he does want to share things with Dipper, always. The good, the bad, the weird, and this is no exception. Just because he’s embarrassed by the things, just because he’s worried Dipper will finally realize “this far and no further,” doesn’t mean he has to be completely closed off, especially around </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dipper </span>
  </em>
  <span>of all people. Dipper doing any sort of incantation, while impressive to most, is downright embarrassing in front of someone who knows them all backward and forward. Latin is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span> language, after all. Not to mention, he’s been the only person to accept and appreciate and care for Wirt, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so he really shouldn’t be surprised when the word “yes” falls from his lips; bourne of a trust and love he hadn't thought possible, where he’d expected to hear fierce denial. He’s watched Dipper damn near burn the house down a million times, seen him stumble around, running into every wall after several days without sleep, and even be about one syllable away from an apocalyptic scenario-- so yeah, in the face of all of that, his clumsy stupid emotional shadow tendrils don’t seem so bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Dipper’s eyes light up with excitement, but it’s tempered by a sort of understanding. The “yes” wasn’t dispassionate as he would have normally expected. There is a weight to it that suggests Wirt is showing him a measure of trust and he doesn’t want to take it for granted, so he moves closer carefully, watching as it starts to twitch more as he gets closer, seemingly anxious. As quick as Wirt was to dismiss the idea of these being a part of him, Dipper isn’t so sure. They seem to respond to his emotional state at the very least. </span>
</p><p><span>          He tries to ooze the concept of safety as he moves closer. If Wirt was correct and they were in fact separate, if he doesn’t control them, this could end up being like a sort of knee jerk reaction and Dipper isn’t knowledgeable enough about Wirt’s magic yet to know whether or not a slap could kill him. Even after realizing this he moves forward anyway, he’d always enjoyed flirting with death… At the thought Dipper starts laughing hard enough to have to pause for a moment to catch his breath and Wirt looks at him confused. He ignores the look and just goes for it. </span><span><br/>
</span> <span>The sensation is not what he expected, for either of them.</span></p><p>
  <span>          Dipper is mostly surprised by their warmth. It’s more like the feeling of blankets coming out of a dryer than the cold he’s come to anticipate. It’s warm and almost… soft? There isn’t really that much of a texture at all. It’s solid shadow, and that’s really the best word he can use to describe it, frustratingly enough. They’re- He can feel them, it’s not like his hand passes through or anything, but it’s more like silk or flowers maybe? It’s unnerving in a weird way. He’d expected something more distinctly unpleasant to touch with shadows being considered “evil” in most superstitions, but he just adds this to the ever-growing list of assumptions about death that seem to be spectacularly unfounded. He’d set out years ago trying to disprove all the ill-will towards death and the things surrounding it, including his field of study, and along the way gotten more personally invested than he ever meant to or anticipated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Wirt is also experiencing an interesting discovery. He’s only ever hated, loathed, and wanted to get rid of the shadows. He pushes them away as often as he can and ignores them every other time. They’ve always been another reminder of his inherent darkness and danger within folklore; warning about shadows that come to kill people in the dead of night without so much as a warning. They’re a symbol of pain, just like he is. Everything about him, designed to threaten and destroy. He can’t even keep a plant in his office without it withering and dying the very same day…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>           He never wants to look too hard at anything that reminds him of his work. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Does anyone give a surgeon grief for not wanting to stare at their scalpel and keep it with them all the time? No, so why should he?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The shadows are tools, or maybe they’re supposed to be if anything bad were to occur, but he’s never had to use them and doesn't so much as look at them if he can help it, but Dipper, as always, has to go off and flip his world-view upside down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          It feels… There aren’t words, really, to describe it. He is hit with a spike of something warm and good and </span>
  <em>
    <span>right </span>
  </em>
  <span>when Dipper touches him. The hyper awareness that he’s always hated because of how horrible it is to feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much</span>
  </em>
  <span> all at once, is now transformed into the greatest thing he’s ever experienced. He’s ashamed, mortified, and just embarrassed as all hell. He thought those horrible, awful appendages knocking things over and just their general existence was bad, but this? </span>
  <em>
    <span>This!?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The realization is so much worse; it’d be like calling a category 5 hurricane a “bit” worse than a spring shower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Forget Dipper making fun of him for being a mess, him realizing that Wirt’s mind has shifted from innocent research into something far </span>
  <em>
    <span>far</span>
  </em>
  <span> from innocent meant he’d be ruined. He wouldn’t be able to come to Earth again; he'd have to move. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Can creatures like him quit?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He doesn’t think so but he might just have to lock himself inside a room and never come out if Dipper realizes, so he shoves a hand in his mouth under the guise of biting his nails. Just nerves from having something he hates about himself being so carefully observed-- don’t look too close, Dipper, nothing to see or hear here, nope-- nothing at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Dipper eventually stops being mesmerized by the surprising texture and moves on to the main scepticism he’d had. Whether or not Wirt can feel anything on his end. He knows he said he couldn’t, but also Dipper calls bullshit on him ever having anything touch them. There’s no way Wirt, who never had the things out on the physical plane, had ever had any sort of actual sensation touch them, so Dipper grabs a little more forcefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “So can you feel this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “Uh n-no nope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Dipper frowns. “What if they’re designed to sense a specific kind of danger, so they’ll only respond to a certain sensation… That’s not such a bad- Hold on a second! I have to grab some equipment from downstairs, I’ll be right back!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Wirt’s eyes widen. “Wait, what kind of equipment??”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “Don’t worry just like different textures and stuff!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Wirt tries to protest, but he’s already gone. Wirt spends the next few seconds alone, trying to form a game-plan. He thinks of his work. The worst aspects, the fighters, the greedy jerks who want to be given a chance to ruin those who outlived them, the heartbreak whenever kids… He barely gets that far in his thoughts before, true to his word, Dipper comes back with a bucket containing a startling number of items, including duct tape and </span>
  <em>
    <span>is that marshmallow fluff?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>          Wirt is subjected to everything in that bucket and he never wants to think about it ever again. It’s a special kind of torture, especially considering he </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t say a word.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He surprisingly maintains composure through most of it, disappointing Dipper immensely. “Huh. Well, that’s all I’ve got, nothing at all?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Sharp head shake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “Hmm...Wait I’ve got it! Centuries ago... okay humans don’t have claws, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “Riiight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “So then the only sharp weapon they’d have without making one would be their teeth so then maybe that’s it! I’m a genius! Hold still I’m going to put one in my mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “No no no no that’s a very very bad idea Dipper, don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “Why? It makes sense logically evolution-wise and everything.” He looks genuinely invested and wonderfully ignorant and Wirt feels a surge of stubbornness at letting this of all things be what breaks him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “Okay yeah you’re right it was just a bit weird, sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “No, the magnifying glass was weird. I’m not really sure what I was trying to accomplish with that, but uh yeah okay let’s try this then I guess…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “Scared?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “No! Of course not I just, you never know with these defense type things, and uh-- yeah this is kinda-- can’t really get another one of these bad boys so okay-- Ahem, right!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Dipper just does it without any more discussion and Wirt can admit that this is the most difficult thing he’s ever done even with a hand shoved in his mouth to muffle any sort of betrayal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Dipper, to his credit, is just </span>
  <em>
    <span>going at it</span>
  </em>
  <span> as passionately as he does anything and that didn’t help Wirt in the slightest. Worse is the comment he decides to make. Wirt expects something about it being unpleasant, or cold, or weird, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah I don’t think this relationship is going to work out</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but not this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          His saving grace is that, luckily, his body is turned the opposite direction of the experimentation so Dipper can’t see his face, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>comment catches him so off guard, he finds the strength to remove the hand from his mouth. “W-what do you mean it doesn’t taste like how you- there’s a taste?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          If Dipper notices the strain in his voice, he is nice enough to refrain from saying anything. Although, knowing him, he probably didn’t even catch it. Once he goes into “research mode” any other observations get thrown out the window. Things such as: what day it is, how long it’s been since he slept, or the fact that his boyfriend is slowly losing all composure barely a couple inches from him, are no longer priority.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>         “Yeah it’s um difficult to describe, hold on let me just-“ Aaand we’re back to the sucking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>         Wirt is pretty sure he already works in hell. Last he’s heard, that’s the situation, but he must have been misinformed by somebody because this, Dipper sucking on one of his tendrils like a damn popsicle... Not only that, but he isn’t able to move a muscle lest he risk getting caught... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>         This has to be a personally designed hell, tailor made just to make him suffer. He must’ve pissed someone powerful off last meeting. Maybe someone didn’t like the scones? He’d tried to make scones, but Mabel taught him and she burns everything and no no no I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to think of his sister right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>         By some miracle, Wirt keeps completely still and decides he deserves an award when all this is said and done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>         Dipper, though, seems to have other ideas that involve not getting enough data from just sucking. Wirt feels him stop sucking for a relief-filled moment just before he licks slowly up along the bottom of the tendril. He can’t suppress the full body shudder and embarrassing noises this time, but they’re muffled by a sweater sleeve because there is still some good left in the world. And if the tendril goes a bit deeper of its own accord after that, well, no one can prove anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          The licking eventually ceases and Dipper is finally </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>done. Wirt can’t see him but he hears a pop and a slurping noise as he detaches. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stay calm stay silent it’s fine you’re fine. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>         At least, Wirt notes with some small satisfaction, the researcher is a little breathless when he speaks. “Yeah, I think I finally figured it out.” Dipper walks around the chair returning to a position where he can face Wirt and </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill me it would hurt less.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>         The necromancer’s eyes are partially blown, sparkling, gorgeous. He’s high on the thrill of new discoveries and wears a bright grin, mouth still wet, lips swollen, and Wirt decides to stop kidding himself. Okay, yeah, he admits it, he’s broken. This is all it took he’s broken, done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>         The incarnation of death. The one thing all people fear more than anything else. The event mortals plan their lives around, run from, try fruitlessly, stubbornly to prevent with their precious few moments. He is inevitable, always in the back of people’s minds and, yet, this man, this, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mere mortal</span>
  </em>
  <span> with nothing but his mouth and a few minutes of time has utterly and completely broken him. The crazy thing is he didn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>intend </span>
  </em>
  <span>to. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wonder just what could he do if he knew...</span>
  </em>
  <span> No, stop it, don’t go there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>         There’s a playful light dancing in Dipper’s eyes. “I know your see~cret.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>         Wirt swallows and shifts. “Y-you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>         He nods and laughs, apparently delighted at his boyfriend’s misery. “You act all scary and dark or whatever, but you’re a total sap! I already knew that, but this. I mean, wow. The taste? It was those cookies! The ones I first gave you. That’s what it was!” He places a chaste kiss against Wirt’s lips. “You’re so sweet, literally!” He laughs again and returns to his former position.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Well, he tries to, anyway. The second he steps back, one of the tendrils wraps itself around one of his wrists. He stops and spins back around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>         “Uh Wirt? You okay? What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Wirt wants nothing more than to pull him closer. Let the shadows do what they will and give into desire for once. One can grab the other wrist, one can wrap around his waist, one for each of those gorgeous thighs, several can slip under his shirt and creep higher, one can climb back down his throat while another wraps around the button of his jeans before going for the zipper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>         He could. Tell Dipper the truth and do what he wants. The mortal would almost certainly go for it; he’d voiced some interest before and goodness knows he’s weird enough to be into this sort of thing. Wirt knows now. He’d been worried Dipper would reject him for inhuman anatomy, but there’s no way after that… Even with him not knowing how Wirt was experiencing that, it takes a special kind of person to do something like that-- wow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Hell, he’d probably see it as a research opportunity as well. Wouldn’t need to take notes over something he’ll never forget, but no. Wirt knows he can’t. He won’t allow himself to give in for fear of losing control, of the damage he could do. They won’t get that close, not now, not ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>         He refuses to even imagine that scenario. The one where instead of raising corpses, his boyfriend becomes one. In a single moment of weakness Wirt could lose the best thing that ever happened to him. The thought is as effective as dumping ice cold water on his head, so he strengthens his resolve and slowly releases Dipper’s arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “Like I said they have a mind of their own. Not really sure why that happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “Oh. Alright. I just thought maybe-” Dipper looks down and shifts, suddenly uncomfortable. “I-- wow, sorry, we could have been cuddling or watching a movie and I just subjected you to what, hours of useless experimentation?” He laughs bitterly, sitting back down, further than he’d been in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>while</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  “I’m kind of the worst, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>          Oh come on.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>          He can’t win. He tries to make sure Dipper isn’t weirded out, and he ends up sucking on a shadow that is also </span>
  <em>
    <span>part of him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He tries to make Dipper comfortable by not mentioning the uh pleasure it gave him. He goes out of his way to make sure Dipper-- oh yeah! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Isn’t brutally murdered</span>
  </em>
  <span> by his stupid dumb hormonal urges. He isn’t even human! How the hell is this possible!? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Dipper. That’s how. That man could seduce anything living. Actually no, anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’d probably be better at the seduction if the person in question was deceased, alarmingly enough. Wirt is suddenly hit with the knowledge that maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>isn’t the weirdest person in the room… But that can wait for a moment. He puts that thought on a box decidedly marked “later” and tries to find a solution. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          “No you’re not. You’re not. You could never be anything even resembling “the worst” to me Dipper! You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I can’t believe you’re even- Dipper you just spent the past few minutes sucking on a fucking tentacle thing.” He has to pause and shove down the rush at just </span>
  <em>
    <span>saying that out loud</span>
  </em>
  <span> and thinking about it and revisiting the sensations in his mind and </span>
  <em>
    <span>nope.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>sorry? If anything I shouldn’t have- You should be with someone normal, Dipper! You deserve normal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          He looks shocked. “No Wirt I- Why on Earth would you think-” He fights to find the right words, something to convey just how idiotic and horrible and confusing all of that sounded and he finally rests on “Why would I ever even consider normal when I could have </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> instead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>          In all his years he’s never been so silent, speechless, dumbfounded, a million other words all meaning the same thing. It’s even more astounding considering how hard it had been to keep quiet only moments ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          Dipper comes over and puts his hands on his shoulders, gently looking up to meet his eyes, the shifted ones that were designed to look normal. His touch is a type of tender reassurance so different from the lust inducing ones from earlier. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span>--this is nice. It’s not normal by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s their own fucked up version of normal and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>works</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he finds himself wanting to just accept it? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Can he do that?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Just let himself fall, let go, and just be maybe not any kind of normal, but himself? He sees the determination and care in Dipper’s eyes and knows his answer: with a slight exertion of will he removes the façade, staring with multicolored eyes, writhing shadows, and aura fully on display. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          He awaits Dipper’s reaction, ready to accept whatever may come, but trusting that whatever it is, they’d be okay, and is met with a soft smile and a “</span>
  <em>
    <span>there you are”</span>
  </em>
  <span> murmured softly, but echoing in the space between them.</span>
</p>
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